


You Could Rattle the Stars

by elutherya



Category: A.C.E (Beat Interactive Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Bullying, Implied/Referenced Blow Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:22:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27442597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elutherya/pseuds/elutherya
Summary: “The spirits in the forest are the ones you need to watch out for,” his neighbor warns. The bowl of soup in front of Yuchan is ignored in favor of hearing what she has to say. “They’ll lure you in any way they can. They’re good at mimicking us, so if you hear someone calling your name from the forest, think twice before you go looking.”
Relationships: Kang Yuchan | Chan/Kim Byeongkwan
Comments: 6
Kudos: 51





	You Could Rattle the Stars

**Author's Note:**

> This is a revamp of an old story. Someone reminded me of the fairytales I grew up hearing and I've always had a fondness for wondering just how they could blend into the world around us now. It's definitely a step away from how I normally write, that's for sure.

Singing. Someone is singing.

Yuchan can hear it from the forest as he’s in the middle of the grass. He can’t make out the words, but the low throbbing him is distinct. It sounds like his mother’s singing when she’s standing in the yard, hanging clothes on the line. Her voice is quiet and he only ever hears her when he gets close. This is different. It’s deeper, impossibly louder.

He stands up, eyes on the treeline. He can’t see anything from where he is, and he’s too afraid to step closer.

Except the tone of the sound changes, and it sounds sadder. Yuchan takes a step forward and then another. It isn’t until the palm of his hand is pressed against one of the trees that he realizes how close he’s gotten. Curiosity tells him to go after the noise and find the source, while his own anxiety begs him to turn around and run.

He listens to the latter instinct, but only just. It isn’t until he’s in his room, the window shut firmly, that he wonders why he wanted to step into the forest in the first place.

* * *

The neighbor tells Yuchan stories of the ghosts that live in the forest. She tells him when he brings her a pot of soup and she offers to share. She’s been living alone for two years now, her husband having passed. Once a week, Yuchan is sent to see her with dinner in hand. More often than not, she asks if he’ll stay, says that she wouldn’t mind the company. His mother always told him to listen to his elders, so he never declines.

She speaks about the creatures that live in the sea, that lure sailors from their boats. The wolves that live in the mountains, feeding on each other during the winter months. Then she mentions the spirits in the forest and Yuchan’s attention snaps into focus. She must see the way he reacts, because she pauses, spoons out the soup into bowls. She passes one to Yuchan, takes the other for herself, and finally sits at the table. Yuchan can feel his pulse fluttering in his throat, trepidation making his hands sweat.

“The spirits in the forest are the ones you need to watch out for,” she warns. The bowl of soup in front of Yuchan is ignored in favor of hearing what she has to say. “They’ll lure you in any way they can. They’re good at mimicking us, so if you hear someone calling your name from the forest, think twice before you go looking.”

* * *

“Most of the tales they’ll tell you are nothing but stories.” Yuchan’s mother brushes her hand through his hair, getting caught in the tangles. She works them out, painlessly. Her touch is enough to calm the shaking, even if his eyes are still wet with unshed tears.

“They’ll tell you about all those brave little boys who went into the forest, and never came back home. They’ll say they went looking for something, or did it as a test of courage.” He doesn’t tell her about how he almost stepped into the woods, following a sound he couldn’t even be sure was real. “They won’t tell you that the stories are to keep children in their beds at night. To keep them from wandering too far from home. The monsters that steal those children in their stories, they’re nothing more than the imaginings of worried mothers.”

“Even if they were true, you’re much too small for any monster to want to eat. Too many bones,” she smiles, pinching gently at his elbow. He finds no comfort in what she says.

* * *

He’s running, spurred on by the sound of footsteps behind him.

“Kids can be mean,” his father used to say, pulling Yuchan into a hug. He’d usually finish it with a “but it gets better.” Yuchan never believed the second part, but _kids can be mean_ , that was something he’s never doubted. He could feel it in the bruise forming along his ribs, aching and sore.

The kids always say that it was an accident, that they never meant it. The kids chasing behind him were liars. There were no accidents in the way they used their fists and gave chase. Kids can be mean, especially if there’s no one there to see and stop it. Yuchan could only hope that his father was right, that it did get better.

He stumbles, feet slipping against the soft ground. He shrieks, hands shooting out to catch himself. His face is damp with tears, and he just wants to be safe in his room. He starts to push himself up, but quickly stops.

There’s two mud covered feet in front of his nose, startling Yuchan enough that he jumps back with a yelp, cradling his arm to his chest. It’s throbbing and he hopes he didn’t sprain his wrist when he fell. He looks up, seeing a boy close to his own age. He’s got pale brown hair and even paler eyes. He isn’t someone from the village, isn’t someone Yuchan recognizes, so he allows himself a moment to check behind him.

His hands are shaking but he can’t hear the shouts from the other boys behind him anymore. He can’t hear anything but the sound of his own frantic breathing. He waits, waits to see if anyone comes out, but no one does. His shoulders shudder, because the boys must have gotten bored and they might leave him alone for now.

He twists back to face the other boy, only to find him crouched down and very, very close.

“You’re more scared of them, than you are of me.” The boy states, a scowl on his face. There’s dirt smeared across his cheek, leaves in his hair, and wearing a dusty hanbok. Yuchan doesn’t know what to make of him. The boy’s expression twists into something he assumes is supposed to resemble a smile. His teeth are jagged sharp.

“I don’t,” Yuchan starts, voice catching in his throat. He can’t push the words out, can’t speak through his nerves.

“Don’t worry,” the boy reaches out. He pats Yuchan’s arm, jagged nails catching in the fabric of his clothes. “Too many bones.”

Yuchan jerks back, stumbles up to his feet, and he runs.

* * *

Yuchan brings a bowl of soup into the forest, following the song that seems to reverberate through the trees. He follows it like he’s been told not to. He follows it until he finds the boy perched on a stump, dragging his nails through the lines, counting how old the tree had been when it had been cut down. The moment Yuchan notices him, he’s already looking up, eyes sharp.

“I wanted,” the words stutter to a stop in Yuchan’s mouth. He tries again, “I wanted to—”

He flushes, embarrassed at his inability to say what he wants to. His eyes feel damp, but instead of yelling, the boy only watches him, waiting. Yuchan isn’t used to that, is used to being told to spit out what he wants to say or to stop with the noise already.

“Sorry.”

“Sorry?” The boy jumps off of the tree stump, takes a few steps forward, pauses.

“For running away,” Yuchan blurts. He darts forward, holds out the bowl of soup, looking everywhere, besides at the boy.

He stills when the boy takes the bowl from him, watches from the corner of his eye. The boy throws back his head and laughs. “You’re supposed to run.”

* * *

“You can call me Byeongkwan,” the boy hums around a spoonful of soup.

“Yuchan,” he immediately chirps back. Byeongkwan narrows his eyes for a moment, before he nods slowly.

“Alright,” he shrugs. He finishes up the soup, presses the bowl back into Yuchan’s hands. Byeongkwan leaves, wanders back into the forest.

The song that Yuchan followed to find the boy in the woods, follows him back out as he makes his way home. This time though, he finds himself humming along.

* * *

“You came back to apologize for running away from me, but what about the boys you were running away from first?” The question shocks Yuchan, has him frantically trying to think of a way to avoid answering.

“Where did you come from?” Yuchan shoots back. He splutters once he realizes what he’s asked. He hides his face in his hands, ignores the fingers prodding at his side. Byeongkwan huffs, pulls his hands away from his face, and waits for Yuchan to look at him.

“Alright,” Byeongkwan says, as if it’s that easy.

He lays back down in the grass, Yuchan’s hands still held between his.

 _Alright_ , Yuchan thinks.

* * *

Yuchan manages to hide it for months, and then years. The answer to the question he’d once been asked about running. Except he forgets he’s hiding it, forgets he doesn’t want Byeongkwan to know. He forgets and he runs, runs until there’s a hand catching at his shirt and pulling him in.

He can’t see who it is through the tears but he can smell dirt and leaves, and he doesn’t need to see. He shudders, presses his face into Byeongkwan’s chest.

“Sorry, Byeongkwan.”

“No,” Yuchan jerks back when Byeongkwan hisses at him. He sobs, tries to get away from the hands that are suddenly cradling his face so carefully.

“No,” Byeongkwan repeats. “You don’t apologize. Not for this.”

His thumb gently traces over the skin of Yuchan’s cheek that’s red and swollen. Yuchan only cries harder, because now Byeongkwan knows why he’s always running.

* * *

Byeongkwan kisses him once he’s stopped crying. He licks at Yuchan’s cheeks, holds him still, even when he tries to squirm away.

He doesn’t stop until Yuchan is laughing, pushing half heartedly at his shoulders. He smiles, something dark burning in his eyes. He pulls Yuchan against him, rolls them into the grass. He doesn’t let Yuchan ask about it.

He kisses Yuchan again, and again. Waits until he’s breathless. Then he’s gone, nosing at Yuchan’s hip.

Byeongkwan’s name leaves his mouth on thready little gasps. Yuchan forgets how to breathe. He forgets to ask.

* * *

“Donghun turned me,” Byeongkwan states. It’s not what Yuchan expects, not when they’ve been sitting in silence for the past hour. He rolls over onto his side, watches Byeongkwan with wide eyes, and waits. He doesn’t know how to answer, but it’s alright, because he knows he’s not expected to. “I was angry at him for it, for a very long time.”

“I get it now, though: why he did it.” Byeongkwan finally looks away from the sky to meet Yuchan’s gaze. “Loneliness can make us do stupid things.”

* * *

“I’m tired,” Yuchan starts. Pauses.

The forest is quiet around them and Byeongkwan doesn’t break it. He waits, let’s Yuchan pick the words he wants to say.

He inhales deeply, eyes on the stars he can see through the trees. “I’m tired of running away.”

“Alright.”

* * *

Byeongkwan wipes his bloodied thumb across Yuchan’s cheek, eyes searching. He allows himself a moment to just look, watch the way his blood stains Yuchan’s lips. He never thought that he would ever feel the urge to do this, the need. After Donghun had turned him, he had sworn he would never turn another person.

Forgiveness is something he thinks he may finally be ready to offer, when this is all over. He hopes he can take Yuchan’s hand and the two of them can find Donghun so that Byeongkwan can tell him. 

Yuchan closes his eyes, sighs happily, unaware of the thoughts twisting through Byeongkwan’s head. His fingers are warm where they’re clutching at Byeongkwan’s hips.

This is Byeongkwan’s last chance to stop, to kill this boy, and travel to the next forest. Collect another soul and move on. That’s how it’s supposed to be.

He shakes his head, because this has already been decided. Decided back when this boy had come to say sorry for running away. This boy who sang with him was not someone he could so easily turn away. Then again, it was just as much his own desires to keep Yuchan with him, than it was anything else.

Byeongkwan sings and Yuchan starts humming in turn, voice soft.

No more hesitation, Byeongkwan thinks. He presses his hand flat against Yuchan’s chest, before he curls his fingers, letting them sink in. It doesn’t hurt, he knows that from personal experience, but he still worries. He eases those thoughts, puts it off to it being a fair trade.

He’s taking Yuchan’s heart, but he’s long since given the boy his own.

* * *

Yuchan wakes up with the stars still in the sky and Byeongkwan humming beside him. The song is familiar, soothing, when it had once been so frightening.

His hand is warm, clutched tightly in Byeongkwan’s. There’s dirt under his cracked nails, but Byeongkwan’s are the same, so it doesn’t matter. He squeezes his fingers and Byeongkwan looks down at him, smiles with something small and brittle.

“Are you scared of me yet?” Byeongkwan asks, the fingers of his free hand plucking at Yuchan’s hanbok.

“No,” Yuchan breathes, pushes himself up. He presses in against Byeongkwan, readjusts their hands so their fingers are twined together. “I never was.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to come talk to me about these boys, possible prompts or anything at all: you can find me over at [twitter](https://twitter.com/Elesteria). I'm always down to chat at new people! You can also find me at [curiouscat](https://t.co/1yfgiUBE0r) if you have any thoughts, prompts or stuff that you're too nervous to say in public.


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